


Actions Speak Louder

by NegativeSpaceWalk



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dyslexic!Clint, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Mute!Phil, these boys have no self-esteem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 16:29:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 14,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5463389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NegativeSpaceWalk/pseuds/NegativeSpaceWalk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were quite a few instance of Agent Barton complaining about doing the reports when no one was paying attention. Maybe this would let him know that at least one person was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This started with an idea I had while transcribing interviews for a documentary and ended up as something else entirely. Not beta read, so all mistakes are mine.
> 
> In this fic Clint has severe dyslexia with dysgraphia leading to him recording his mission reports instead of writing of typing them.
> 
> Though not mentioned in the fic Phil's mutism is caused by a genetic defect in the vocal folds leaving him only able to make the "f, s, sh, g, k, t, p, th, ch" sounds because they do not engage the vocal cords. Phil's preferred method of communication in this fic is american sign language.
> 
> This fic doesn't go into much depth with any of these things, but if something is wrong, please let me know. I want to be as accurate and inoffensive as possible.

[00:35:07]

_CFB: God knows I love purple -- half my wardrobe is purple-- but that does not mean I want to become one with purple. [indistinct shuffling] I’ve been told purple goes well with my skin tone [water running, scrubbing] but that was not in fact an invitation for the universe to turn my skin purple. [long sigh] Miss Violet Beauregarde was never a personal role model._

Phil knew he shouldn’t be laughing, but Agent Barton sounded so forlorn in the recording that Phil couldn’t really help it. The man who claimed anything purple as his own was now purple himself. Phil almost wished he could get a visual, but suspected his imagination was better than whatever the reality was.

Victor rolled over to Phil’s desk, drawn by the chuffing that served as Phil’s laughter. It took Phil a good minute to bring his breathing under control without starting himself into a coughing fit.

“What’s got you all riled up?” Victor asked as he settled his wheelchair next to where Phil was sitting.

Phil didn’t feel like wasting the time writing down an explanation, so he simply backed up the audio file and handed the headphones off to Victor.

“This better not be something over my clearance level” Victor said while untangling the headphone cord and narrowing his eyes “Again.”

Phil just gave him an innocent smile and pointed at the clearance level clearly marked on the corner of the digital file. Victor side eyed Phil for a good minute before he slid the headphones on. When Victor’s eyes widened in surprise and he started chuckling, it set Phil of laughing again.

When they had both caught their breath again Victor turned towards Phil “That is a piece of beauty right there, please tell me that's going on the interoffice board. I want to listen to that again once Barton inevitably set off another paperwork cascade with one of his stunts.”

Phil nodded, quickly clipping out the chunk of audio and copying it over to the office message board. He typed up a brief description of the clip and the mission, making sure there was no classified information in it and posted it. He was pretty sure that put him in a tie with Hernandez for most clips posted for the month.

“You know, that reminds me of the incident with Agent Wallace a couple of years ago.” Victor said while stretching to place the headphones by Phil’s keyboard. “The one with the hand grenade and the glitter factory.”

Phil gave a sharp nod. That one had won funniest excerpt for both the month and the quarter.

Victor gave a soft chuckle “That one was glorious to listen to. ‘may you find glitter in places where there is no light to make it sparkle’ is still one of my favorite curses.”

That brought a smile to Phil’s face. He could remember a few instances where Victor shouted that over the phone at the members of the main IT branch. Especially when they had tried to classify the changes Victor had made to the record department servers as a virus attack and deleted all his coding.

“Well I’ll let you get back to work, have fun with Agent Barton’s file” With that Victor gave a small wave and wheeled his chair back over to his desk.

Phil turned back to his computer, intent on finishing his transcription, but Victor’s mention of the Sparkly Wallace debacle had given him an idea. He searched the interoffice board quickly and found the clip he wanted. He attached it an email addressed to Agent Barton and kept the body of the email to just one line.

He knew about Agent Barton’s dyslexia, it was the whole reason the agent used voice recordings instead of writing or typing out his reports. He didn’t want the other man to have to fight through too much to read the email.

Phil clicked send on the email before he could think about why it was a stupid idea. He quickly exited his mail program before he became too tempted to hit the unsend button Victor had installed a while ago. Opening the transcription software backup Phil tried his best to allow his work to distract him from his little flight of fancy. There were quite a few instance of Agent Barton complaining about doing the reports when no one was paying attention. Maybe this would let him know that at least one person was.


	2. Chapter 2

Clint looked at his email, clicked on the unread message, clicked on one he already read, and then clicked back on to the new message. Nothing had changed. He sat there wondering if he should open the attachment or not. It was pretty rare that he got emails, most people knew it was easier to just hunt him down and have a conversation.

The sender’s email belonged to someone at Shield, a “P_Coulson@Shield.gov”. Clint didn’t recognize the name. Which might explain why the person didn’t know emailing wasn’t all that helpful, but the content of the message made him think otherwise.  All the email said was “There are worse things than being purple.”

Clint looked down at his arms, where the black printer ink he had been covered with had left lurid purple and blue stains on his skin. He thought whoever sent the email was full of shit, he could hear people laughing in the halls every time he was forced to leave his room to get food.  At least his sunglasses had saved his eyes from being hit, what the rest of his face looked like though, wasn’t really worth thinking about.

After twenty minutes of alternately glaring at the email attachment and clicking through the rest of his inbox, consisting mainly of automated submission notification, curiosity finally won and Clint started to download the attachment.

Clint was expecting another document to pop up, he was not expecting his media player to open. He had to hunt through three of his desk drawers, each one packed full of random junk, before he managed to find a pair of headphones. Plugging them in, he pushed up the volume on his laptop and hit play.

A clearly pissed off voice came through the speakers _“There is glitter in my hair, glitter on my skin, there is even glitter when I sneeze. I have taken three showers and taken an hour long swim in the over chlorinated water of Shield academy's pool. And yet” the recording was full of harsh breathing for a good minute “and yet wherever I go I leave a glitter trail like I am god damn tinkerbell and everyone is believing in fairies. To the young punk at AIM who thought throwing a hand grenade in a tank of glitter was a good distraction technique, first, bravo and second, may you find glitter in places where there is no light to make it sparkle.”_

The last line was delivered with such an air of menace and foreboding that Clint gave a few slow blinks at his screen until he started to laugh. He had to set his laptop aside for fear of knocking it to the floor as he doubled over trying to get his breathing back under control. He was sure he was making enough noise to alarm the people in the rooms next to him, but they could deal with it. They had been making some noises that were a lot less PG than laughter a few nights back.

Clint was trying to fight his way through typing a reply to the email, because that clip did make him feel better about being purple, when his phone started ringing. He quickly shut down and put away his laptop. R&D had come up something or other that they thought might get the ink stains off his skin, and he was more than ready to have his normal skintone back. As Clint raced through the halls leaving a cascade of snickering behind him, he forgot all about the email in his drafts folder.


	3. Chapter 3

Phil wanted to bang his head against the table, repeatedly. He really should stop sending Clint little sound bites, but every time he came across a funny clip he couldn’t reign in the impulse. He hadn’t gotten any response back in the three months he’d been doing it. He knew he should stop, but there was a little voice in the back of his head that said no reaction wasn’t a negative reaction. He hadn’t been told what he was doing was welcome, but he hadn’t been told it was unwelcome either.

Phil also wanted to shove the Councilman’s cellphone down its owner's throat, but that was a completely separate desire.

Councilman Leclair was texting away on his phone while his assistant was spouting off facts that were horrifyingly inaccurate with the air of someone who was use to not being questioned. Sure the missions that were being mentioned occurred more than a handful of years ago, but that was no excuse for bad information. The fact that the World Security Councilman was allowing this to happen without comment, or even really paying attention was a huge insult.

Phil raised his hand above the table from where they were resting in his lap and caught Fury’s eye. When he had secured the Director's attention he started signing, glad for the hundredth time for the shorthand signs they had developed to make passing information so much easier. He quickly pointed out every error the Councilman’s assistant was making, knowing Fury would understand why he was pointing it out and would be able to use that information in Shield’s favor. Phil knew if Fury played it right they could get a tidy chunk of money out of the inattentive councilman, enough possibly to pay for another quinjet.

“You know, it’s really quite rude to talk in a manner the rest of us can’t understand. I don’t see anyone else at the table conversing in secret code, I would suggest you two would refrain from doing so.” Phil dropped his hands midsign and turned to stare at the councilman, of course the man stopped paying attention to his cell phone only to be an asshole.

Phil was reaching to pull the copy of his ranting manifesto of “Why you are an ableist asshole” out of his briefcase when Fury shot him a quelling look. Phil let out a sigh and locked the latches on his briefcase, sliding it back by the table legs. It been awhile since he’d gotten to pull a copy of it out, especially considering last time it had served more as a physical bludgeon than tool of enlightenment.

Fury steepled his fingers and leaned back in his chair “So, I’m going to assume your a dumbass, because you've yet to prove yourself otherwise. I’ve always been told, in those mandatory training sessions, that it’s best to work at the level of the lowest common denominator in the room, which right now is you Councilman Leclair.”

Phil tuned out for the rest of the rant, Fury had long ago earned the right to come to his defense and Phil trusted the man to properly eviscerated the bastard. Besides if he listened too intently now there would be no surprises when he had to transcribe the whole thing latter. Idly he watched the crowd slowly gather on the other side  of the frosted glass wall. Fury’s rants were both loud and legendary so the crowds really came as no surprise.

Phil wondered if it would be too soon to send Barton another soundbite email, and decided it wasn’t. The practical side of his brain was screaming at him that he should really just give up, but the practical side had also, once upon a time, said he shouldn’t join Shield and that had turned out to be one of the best decisions of his life. So, the practical side of his brain could just go sit in a corner for a bit. Maybe, just maybe, Phil had had too much sugar this morning. Not that he still wouldn’t fight someone over the last powdered donut.

Fury slammed down the proposed budget and Phil’s mind snapped back to attention. He had to hide a smirk as one by one the Councilmen, still shellshocked from Fury’s rant, nodded in agreement to every change Fury proposed. Phil might owe Fury a drink and some hearty praise after this, because if he had heard right Fury had just turned the mistakes Phil had pointed out into not one, but two quinjets worth of added funds.

When the meeting ended Phil watched as the councilmen filed out of the room, each looking various levels of dazed and disgruntled. Thankfully there was no one in the halls for them to bump into, the crowds having dissipating after Fury’s rant wound down.

When Fury was the only other person left at the table Phil slid a piece of paper across it. He’d written it half way through the meeting, but it applied even more so now.

Fury being the asshole he is, made sure to read the note out loud.“when I said you could burn a few bridges I didn't mean you could also salt, burn and sprinkle liberally with napalm the surrounding land.”

Fury looked over at Phil and let out an inelegant snort. “Being a little dramatic there, aren’t we Cheese?”  Phil was doing his best not to twitch, though a sigh did escape him. some things did not need to become part of the record, and that nickname was one of them.

Fury stood and stretched "I could salt and burn the whole world if I wanted to. As we've seen the council as it stands isn't that much of a detriment."

Phil wanted to facepalm, but decided to use his hands in a more effective manner and started to yell at Fury. “If you keep acting like that, eventually they will conspire over your head and there will be no stopping that. You can get your way now, but you are not making any friends and eventually you will need some of those. I do not care if you do not respect them, most of them do not deserve it, but they hold the reigns and you should at least respect that.”

Fury raised a skeptical eyebrow, but Phil continued on. “You may have the ability to salt and burn the world, but they have the ability to nuke it. It would be unwise to forget that.”

Slamming his hands down served the dual purposes of providing emphasis and stopping the flow of words, Phil had a lot more to say but he knew not to stretch Fury’s patience too far. It was a sign of how much Fury respected him that the other man didn’t just turn away or speak over him.

Fury just smirked “If that day should come, I know you have enough material in your archive to make life very difficult for the councilmen.”

Phil gave in to the urge to rub at the bridge of his nose and let out a long sigh. Fury was right, the archive was Phil’s own version of a nuclear option and just a well protected as any warhead. He just hoped it would never come to that.

“I don’t pay you to sit there and be huffy at me. Now go get back to work.” With that Fury walked out of the door, making sure the coat fanned out behind him like the drama queen he was.

Phil gathered together his files glancing up at the clock. Usually Barton had his reports in by now, that at least was something to look forward to.


	4. Chapter 4

Clit tried to sink further into the mattress, he was sore and exhausted and logically he really should have no trouble dropping off to sleep. Unfortunately sound logic hadn’t really played a part of his life since he ran away to the circus all those years ago.

He finally gave up and got his laptop from where it was charging on his desk, if he couldn’t sleep he could at least watch stupid cartoons on the internet. The icon for his inbox still loudly proclaimed that he had one unread message. He knew who it’d be from, but if he didn’t acknowledge it, then it didn’t exist, and if it didn’t exist he wouldn’t have to deal with it. He would just watch cartoons and everything would be fine.

Clint knew he was being stupid, but that didn’t stop the anxiety from clawing at his stomach. He’d been getting these emails for around three month and he still hadn’t replied to a single one. The first time he got called to R & D and then a string of missions and had forgotten about the email until he got back and by then the second and third ones were sitting on his inbox. Those emails had been put aside in favor of getting cleared by medical and filling his report, and by the time that was done the fourth one had materialized in his inbox.

He couldn’t decide if it would be more awkward to respond or not respond so he let indecision still his hand as the fifth, sixth and seventh emails rolled in. At that point he decided it really would be too awkward to suddenly start responding, so he did nothing and hoped the mysterious Coulson would keep sending him funny little soundbites anyway.

Clint really did try to focus on the cartoons, but that little email icon kept drawing his attention. He finally gave up the pretense and clicked open his email. The email was from who he expected, but it appeared to have been forwarded by someone else. He blinked at the address of the forwarder “V_Caro@Shield.gov”. He had spent a lot of time with Victor when the man tweaked his computer until it was something comfortable to use. Clint wondered why Victor would suddenly hijack an email.

Clint turned his attention to what Victor wrote “Phil chose a boring one this week and he’d never choose this one himself, so I chose it for him. p.s. Cheese is one of Phil’s nicknames. If you ever figure out why, tell me. There's a tidy betting pool surrounding it.” Clint cracked a small smile, that was Victor all over somehow making aggressive and caring work together. Curious he clicked the attachment open and got his headphones while it loaded.

Clint was surprised when it was Fury’s voice that started speaking “when I said you could burn a few bridges I didn't mean you could also salt, burn and sprinkle liberally with napalm the surrounding land.”

There was a snort that Clint assumed was Fury’s and then “Being a little dramatic there, aren’t we Cheese?” There was a sigh that seemed to come from the other side of the room right before the recording cut off.

If Cheese really was Coulson, and that really was Fury talking then Clint really was screwed. Clint might be nursing a small crush on someone who Fury had nicknamed. Even Maria Hill didn’t have a Fury appointed nickname and she was the man’s second in command. Whoever Coulson was, he was a lot more important than Clint ever suspected.

What the hell was someone that important doing emailing him. Sure he got some so-classified the-president-should-never-know type missions with Natasha, but that was because he was skilled not because he was important. Surely he couldn’t be worth the time of someone Fury had personally nicknamed.

The only good thing to come out of this little set of revelations was that now he knew Coulson's first name was Phil, at least that was something. Phil was a nice name, Phil sounded like someone who would give Clint the time of day. Phil was a great name for the guy Clint was repeatedly failing to respond to.

Clint was about to test the durability of his laptop versus his skull when there was a knock at the door. Clint glanced over to the analog clock on his wall that had pictures of birds instead of numbers because a) Natasha thought she was being cute when she chose it and b) numbers were evil. It was almost blue jay o’clock or six am, which was latter than he thought it would be but still way too early for anyone to be bothering him, especially right after a mission.

When the knocking only got louder Clint sighed and put his laptop away and went to flip the lock on the door. Opening the door he was faced with an annoyed looking Jasper Sitwell, at least Clint wasn’t the only one lacking in the sleep department.

“Fury wants you on a transport to the Pegasus facility, apparently the scientist are looking especially twitchy today or some such bull.” Jasper wasn’t even trying to hide his annoyance, which Clint suspected was part of the reason why he enjoyed having the other man as his handler so much.

Clint couldn't help snarking back, he may like Jasper, but it was barely six am and like only gets a person so far. “I’m pretty sure there's a regulation somewhere about agents getting 8 hours of uninterrupted sleep after a mission, and at least 24 hours between missions.”

“And all of your fans weep for your lack of beauty sleep, I’m sure.” Jasper’s eyeroll was impressive “You know how much Fury cares about rules and regulations.”

Clint gave a long sigh because he did know, and the answer was little to no fucks given. “Since it’s inevitable, when are we heading out?”

Jasper’s smirk did not bode well for Clint “I get to stay here and go back to sleep, while you roll out in two hours. You have time to pack, eat and do weapons check and then get your ass on a plane. Preferably the right one this time”

Clint didn’t even bother biting back a groan as he rubbed at his face. He wondered what he did to deserve this, and then he remembered his teenage years and decided to stop complaining.

Jasper poked him in the chest with an alarmingly thick folder “Here’s your briefing packet, try to read it before you fall asleep on the plane. Have fun watching the rubik's cube of doom.”

With that Jasper turned and left Clint standing in his doorway regretting his life choices. At least babysitting a bunch of scientist would be less dangerous than his normal missions.


	5. Chapter 5

Phil was pissed at Fury. There was absolutely no reason for the man to send him to the middle of the desert. He was the head of the records department, not some level one agent to be shuffled about at will. He shouldn't be away from his office, especially with so little notice. Sure he could do the grand majority of his work remotely and his main mode of communication with his subordinates was IMs and email, but that did not mean he could be physically absent from his department.

Phil was completely sure he hadn't done anything to deserve this kind of punishment. The scientists here barely made time to listen to the people around them speak. It was damn near impossible to get them to read what you wanted to say without being able to yell for their attention. And honestly, The less that is said about trying to hold a written/typed/generally nonverbal conversation with them the better.

The only possibly good part was that he'd heard about agent Barton's presence on the base. Mostly from the complaints of other agents, but complaints were always more accurate than adoring tales.

If Phil was looking for a sign that maybe he should try and have an actual conversation with the man, he supposed this was it. He would have to find out when Barton was off duty and go say hi. It all sounded so easy in his head.

His anxiety was quick to remind him that it was unlikely to go so smoothly in reality. What if Barton didn't want anything to do with him, and hadn't said anything just to spare his feelings. What if, like the scientist, he didn't have the patience to let Phil write out his side of the conversation. What if once Barton knew he couldn't speak he wouldn't want to deal with him, or found him distasteful or pitiable like others had before.

Phil knew it all boiled down to what if he got hurt again. The possibility of it all working out though was stronger than the fears. Because what if Clint was the one who made all the failures worth it.

Really Phil knew he should stop mooning over the man and actually do something. He had admin access to the schedule, and maybe it was time to use that access for something, even if that something was technically against regs. Fury would never cite him for it.

The scheduler was the worst hybrid of a calendar and spreadsheet Phil had ever seen. He had half a mind to let Victor remake it into something that didn't insite migraines. Thankfully familiarity bred speed and he found what he was looking for before the temptation won out.

It was just his luck that Barton was off shift now, his last excuse to delay seeing the man face to face was gone now. That didn't mean though, that he couldn't take his time organizing his files and logging off his computer.

Rapid knocking at the door almost made him drop the mug he was moving. It was times like this that really made him wish he could shout. Hopefully whoever was on the other side wouldn't take the silence as permission like some people did and barge in. Phil still had his sleeves rolled up and his tie loosened, and for him that was downright unprofessional.

Phil took a few seconds to finish tidying his desk and rolled down and button his sleeves, deciding to forego the tie all together. Hopefully whoever was on the other side wouldn't mind, and if they did, it was after seven and they would just have to deal with it.


	6. Chapter 6

Clint was going to go stir crazy if he didn't get a few days off soon. Sure watching scientists and the creepy glow cube was a pretty easy gig, but off shift there was nothing to do besides hit the gym or hit the hay in an attempt to avoid actually hitting someone.

He wasn't going to ask for more excitement though, he had learned the whole be careful what you wish for lesson early and often. But you know, maybe someone to talk to whose conversations contained more pop culture and less Greek letters would be nice.

Clint was half way back to his room trying to decide whether the unidentified substances served in the cafeteria or one of the meal replacement bars he kept in his room would be the worse option when something in the hall caught his eye. He turned to look at the small plaque by the door that he could swear up and down was blank last time he had come down this hallway. Instead of the blank metal backing showing, there was now a crisp piece of paper tucked under the glass.

Clint took a step closer because letters that neat could not be handwritten, but the few stray pen marks he spotted proved otherwise. Even agent Hill, who had handwriting that would have made the orphanage nuns weep for joy, could not reach that level of near mechanical exactness. A person with handwriting like that could be nothing less than terrifying.

It took a minute for Clint to actually register what the name the neat handwriting spelled out, and when he did he had to quickly bite off a string of curses. The office belonged to one P. Coulson, and now Clint knew why Natasha was so smug when Clint was whining about his crush over the phone this morning.

He should have known better than to promise Nat that he would make a move if Phil somehow ended up in the middle of nowhere with him. Even half way around the world Natasha always knew what was happening in his life better than he did. And now he had to make a move because the only thing scarier to Clint than rejection was Natasha.

Running a hand through his hair Clint quickly checked over his uniform to make sure it wasn’t covered in ceiling crud from his time in the rafters. He took a deep breath and raised his hand to knock. He knew himself well enough to know that if he didn’t do it now he’d keep chickening out, and somehow Natasha would know and she would never let him live it down.

Clint gave a series of quick knocks to the door and waited for a response. Nobody called out a response, and Clint would have thought Phil had already called it night if not for the soft rustling and clatter of keys coming from the other side of the door.  Clint felt his nerves ratcheting tighter as soft footsteps made their way towards the door.

He was about to meet a man who he only knew through short messages and funny sound bites, and he was pretty sure he was going to do something embarrassing or stupid and blow any chance he had with the man. And oh god, what if Phil didn’t even like guys, or was one of those super conservative types and  thought Clint was going to hell or what if he said yes but it didn’t work out and he ended up breaking Phil’s heart or the other way around.

Clint’s halfway into deciding if it would be worse if Phil said no or yes when the door swung open and all thoughts skittered from Clint’s mind. Clint thought the man’s employee photo was cute but seeing the man in person was edging more into hot territory, especially with the lack of tie and thick glasses.

A hand waving veered his brain away from the gutter it was quickly approaching. Looking up at Phil’s wary smile Clint had to bite back his panic, hopefully he hadn’t been staring like a star struck teenager for too long. He really hoped he hadn’t come across as a total creep.

There was a stretch of silence where neither spoke, then Clint’s mouth  overrode his brain and he started babbling. “Hi, I’m Clint uh… Agent Barton, though you probably already know that. I hope you know that, with the emails you sent and all. The emails! I really liked the emails, they made me laugh. I wanted to respond but I didn’t have enough time for the first few, and then I thought it would be weird to start responding suddenly, though it probably be less awkward than this. But then I saw you were here, and I’m here and you’re really hot, and oh god please shut me up I’m making a fool of myself.”

Clint could feel the heat radiating off his cheeks as he buried his face in his hands. Real smooth first impression right there, a true class act. With that kind of intro he’d get a restraining order instead of a date.

Clint peaked between his fingers when he heard the scratching of pen on paper. Phil had pulled out a small notebook and was writing something down, Clint just hoped it wasn't a reminder to get the aforesaid restraining order.

Phil held out the notebook with a shy smile and Clint took it, hoping for once that the words wouldn't scramble too badly. He looked down on the page and even with Phil's neat handwriting the words started dancing. Clint tried to desperately squint and pin down the words, but he only managed to decipher half the words.

Clint looked up at Phil and he knew he was blushing bad enough for his ears to turn scarlet. "Ah... I can't read this, the words uhh... Won't stop moving."

Clint knew the last few words were a rushed mumble but Phil had a slight frown, so Clint figured he had caught the words anyway. Phil crossed his arms a small wrinkle appearing between his brows. Clint wondered why the other man hadn't spoken, long silences had never meant anything good for Clint. It took everything he had to not sprint down the hall and avoid Phil for the rest of his life.

There was a small sigh and Clint looked up to see Phil sliding the pen and notebook back into his pocket. When he saw he had Clint's attention he pointed at himself. Clint didn't know what the hell was happening, but he was determined to see it out.

Phil again pointed at himself, his expression scrunching like he was waiting for Clint to get a clue. Clint figured he couldn't embarrass himself more so he tried to guess what Phil wanted.

"Okay, I'm guessing this is like charades." When Phil gave a quick nod Clint went on " so your ponging at yourself, so 'you'.”

Phil gave another nod and a small smile. He tapped at his throat and then raised his hand to his mouth fingers pointed towards Clint and then spread them wide. When he caught Clint's confused look he repeated the gesture adding the hand miming talking.

It took Clint a few long seconds before he said "’voice’... Or ‘speaking’" he was encouraged when Phil gave a small smile and nod.

Phil started to shake his head no as he brought his arms in front of him in an "x". At first Clint thought he had done something wrong, but when Phil repeated the gesture he figured it was the next clue.

"So ‘no’... In this case I'm assuming ‘can't’." Clint guessed and Phil gave another encouraging nod.

When Phil didn't move on to mime something else Clint figured the those three words were the message. "You voice can't... You can't voice...voice..." Clint eyes widened as he figured it out.

"You can't speak. oh!" Phil had been smiling when Clint figured it out but his shoulders slumped and the smile dropped off his face at Clint's exclamation.

Clint felt his eyes widen in panic "that wasn't a bad oh, it really wasn't. That was a that explains things oh. It's not a bad thing you can't talk, wait but that sounds like it's a good thing your silent which isn't what I meant. I mean it doesn't matter, well I mean it does because it affects your life. Oh god I suck at words and socialization, putting them together like this is just a bad idea."

Taking a deep breath Clint held out his hand "Hi, I'm Clint Barton. I want to go out with you. I won't be able to read half the things you write down, but do you want to try it anyway?"

Phil took his hand with a flustered smile and gave a small nod. When he pulled his hand from the handshake he held them up to shoulder height and started moving them. Clint was distracted for a second by how fluidly they moved from one shape to another, the signing so different from the earlier miming.

Clint almost jumped up and down like a four year old when he recognized one of the signs. " I know that! That means dinner!"

Phil stopped moving abruptly, looking at Clint with wide eyes and then started signing faster. Clint felt a blush creep up his cheeks again as he rubbed at the back of his neck.

He met Phil's eyes "I know a tiny, miniscule bit of sign from when an explosion messed with my hearing and they didn't know if the damage would heal. I stopped once most of my hearing started to return, but I can start learning it again! Especially now that I have such a good incentive to learn it."

Clint couldn't help how wide his smile was, they now had a means of communication as tenuous as it was. "So what were you saying about dinner?"

Phil gave a small huff of amusement and brought his hands up once again. This time he moved through them slow enough for Clint to catch them. He didn't know all the sign, but he knew enough to catch the drift of such a simple message.

Clint felt his smile grow impossibly wider. "Yeah, I'd love to go get dinner with you. Let's hope the cafeteria is serving something at least partially edible tonight."

Phil gave another bemused huff and then gestured for Clint to start heading down the hall. Clint gave a smart about face, looking over his shoulder to make sure Phil was following him. They kept pace with each other as they made their way through the winding corridors, their shoulders almost but not quite brushing.

Clint was pleased to see the cafeteria was serving spaghetti, one of their more palatable option. Clint let Phil go through the line first, admiring the smooth way he interacted with the cafeteria workers. Clint had over double the amount of food on his plate than Phil did, but he decided there were better things to be embarrassed about than how much food he ate.

They made their way to the back of the dining area, putting a good bit of space between them and the stragglers from the earlier dinner rush. Clint was afraid dinner was going to be awkward with their limited ability to communicate, but after the first few false start it wasn't that bad. It was mainly Clint telling small antecedents from around base and asking Phil yes or no questions.

When Phil did set down his fork to sign he managed to keep his stories both simple and yet still funny, more charades coming in to cover the gaps in Clint's vocabulary. Honestly Clint couldn’t remember a first date ever going so well.

They both lingered at the table, but eventually they had to call it a night. When they came to the junction in the hallway where their paths diverged, it took everything Clint had to just give Phil a good night kiss and not follow him back to his room. It was so tempting, but he had a morning shift and being good at his job was a touchstone in his life he was not willing to compromise. Phil gave him an understanding smile and turned to make his way down the hall, Clint was relieved that the other man understood.

Clint watched Phil until he disappeared down another corridor and then starting making his way to his own barracks. He hoped sleep would still come even with the euphoria bubbling in his veins. Like he said, he had a job to do and being sleep deprived was a good way to do a bad job at it even if it was just watching scientists poke at the unknown.


	7. Chapter 7

Phil was paging through a few of his favorite online sign language dictionaries, though he doubted they would have what he needed. Never before in his life had there been a need to differentiate between a handgun, rifle, and a sniper rifle or a recurve and compound bow. He was sure the words existed out there, he just wasn’t sure where to go look for them.

Phil was amazed by the speed at which Clint was picking up signing. Clint was already stringing together simple phrases, and he was able to understand more words than he could sign. Clint joked that signs couldn't switch around the way letters did, and Phil had to admire his bravery to learn another language when words were already such trouble.

Phil couldn’t help the warmth that spread through him whenever he remembered Clint slowly moving through different signs, and not just because the man’s arms were sinfully distracting.

Sign was Phil’s preferred method of communication above writing or typing things or using a text-to-speech device. Phil could easily count the number of people who had made the effort to accommodate that preference. He was so happy Clint had made the effort, even if Clint’s dyslexia had forced the choice. Phil knew how easy it would be to decide it was not worth it and turn away, it wouldn’t have been the first time it had happened.  

Phil was so distracted by his thoughts that when the emergency alarm started blaring Phil couldn’t fight back a flinch. They had been evacuating the civilians and contractors on base all day, and honestly Phil didn’t think much of it. Every time something potentially dangerous happened anyone not covered by Shield’s medical insurance got temporarily moved because Shield didn’t want to deal with paying for second and third party insurance and medical fees. This alarm though, meant something major and potentially deadly was going down.

Quickly Phil set his computers to back themselves up on Victor’s emergency servers, with the way the light were flickering he just hoped the power would stay on long enough for the backups to finish. He quickly shoved all of the paper files into his messenger bag, glad that he hadn’t needed many while he was at Pegasus.

He was halfway out the door when he turned to grab Clint’s hoodie off the back of it even though he already had his suit jacket. It was both the softest and most violently purple hoodie he had ever seen. Hopefully he would get a chance to wrap it around Clint once this whole mess was finished. He could already imagine the goofy smile and quick peck on the cheek Clint would give him and it brought smile to his face has he made his way through the twisting maze of corridors.

He came upon a group of agents who were panicking at an ill marked junction and had to tap one on the shoulder and point to get them moving in the right direction. Phil had thought memorizing the escape route from a base was a pretty standard thing, but maybe he was just paranoid. He cracked open his bag, stuffing the hoodie inside as pulled out a sticky note and a sharpie, using them to mark the way to the exit. Hopefully it would help and no one would brush it off the wall in their panic.

The floor started to shake when Phil was halfway to the exit. He gave a hiss of frustration and started to sprint. He skidded around the last few corners, not stopping to check the signs on the walls. He just hopped he had the right path memorized, it be really unfortunate to end up at the gym instead of outside.

Phil pushed through the doors right as the sound of cracking concrete rung out, he didn’t turn back to see if it was the ceiling or the support columns that  were collapsing. He silently cursed sand’s incessant need to be everywhere and its lack of traction. Phil ignored the grit in his shoes and pushed forward, he knew further was always the better option.

Cars were racing out of the underground parking structure, but he could barely see their headlights through the growing dust cloud. He hoped none of them ended up on top of him, he was well off the road but they were probably having a worse time seeing than he was.

Phil could hear the whump of helicopter blades and turned his course towards them. If they weren't medevac copters he should be able to catch a ride to safety, wherever that was.

He reached the helicopter right as the skids were lifting from the ground. Three pairs of arms leaned out from the open door and dragged him in. When Phil finally managed to catch his breath and look around he noticed he was surrounded by the group from the unmarked junction. A few shot him thankful smiles when they caught him looking while others just stared blank eyed at the floor.

Those closest to the now closed doors had their faces pressed so close to the window that Phil was sure there would be nose prints left on the glass. He managed to slide through the mass of bodies and get a glimpse out the window over someone’s shoulder. Phil couldn't believe what he was seeing, Pegasus was imploding with what looked like a black hole eating the heart of the building.  The underground wings collapsed one after the other swallowing whatever was above them.

When Phil was recruited into Shield he expected to encounter the weird and bizarre, it was literally written into the contract. This though was well beyond anything he could ever imagine, and he had agent’s vivid and merciless field reports to feed his nightmares. Phil desperately hoped this was just a catastrophic failure of scientific experimentation and not an opening salvo to something worse.


	8. Chapter 8

“Would you stop that incessant fidgeting!” Clint looked up from the screen to see his prince striding towards him, scepter raised.

Clint’s hand was moving in a rhythmic pattern, fingers extending and clenching, rearranging themselves over and over again.  Letter after letter formed and dismissed every time his hand was not filled with a gun or his bow. Clint had paid no attention to the movement, it did not interfere with Prince Loki’s orders so there was no need to devote energy to it.

Apparently it was a problem though, because his prince tapped the end of the scepter to Clint’s chest, a wave of blue rolling out from the sharp tip. Clint’s vision blacked out for a moment and then returned sharper and with a cooler tint than before.

Loki pulled the scepter away, eyeing his work “Honestly, I could sew your mouths shut and you humans would still find a way to prattle on.”

When Clint’s hands remained perfectly still at his sides Loki gave a satisfied smirk. “Now, show me what have you found for me.”

Clint turned to bring up his findings on where the Iridium was stored pointing out which target would be easiest to acquire.  Clint was pleased when his prince agreed with his assessment and went to carry out Loki’s orders. He was around the corner and well out of Loki’s view before his hand once again started to go through it’s pattern of letters.


	9. Chapter 9

Phil stared at the screens watching what looked to be a strong start to the end of the world. Technically these feeds were director’s eyes only, but you did not make a man compile a list of all your passwords if you didn’t want him to use them. He was breaking quite a few protocols and probably a few more laws on top of that, but he honestly could not bring himself to care at the moment and he was sure Fury wouldn’t either.

The whole breaking protocol issue was probably compounded by the fact the Victor and the other heads of IT had rigged the feeds to project on the large flat walls of the gym. The Triskelion had proper facilities for such things, but they were all occupied by operations personnel. Apparently no one thought the support staff would want to know what the hell was going on.

Phil was actually impressed by the pseudo-control center that had popped up in the gym. Everyone had brought their phones, tablets and laptops with them when the news of the live feeds spread. Phil check the screen of his desktop, one of the few in the room, and was pleased to see Shield’s underground information network coming quickly to life.

The Information and Analysis department might know everything going on outside of of Shield, but when it came to questions about what was happening inside Shield the underground network was where you would find your answers. The support staff were both ubiquitous and ignored. You didn’t need to be nosey when people wouldn’t notice you in the room, and the staff took merciless advantage of that.

Now everyone of those unnoticed workers was using their anonymity to figure out what the hell was going on. Members of the housekeeping and janitorial staff reported mass agent deployment at the three US bases nearest to New York. They had just received confirmation the all other bases were on high alert from the food services staff.

"So far there's no buzz from the global basses, but all planned trips with the vehicles belonging to the autopool have just been canceled." Phil looked back at Ms. Darren, the head of housekeeping for the Triskelion, as she reached over his shoulder to type the information into the spreadsheet.

She had her hair tied up with a bandana today and the top of her coveralls tied at her waist revealing heavily tattooed skin. For being all of four foot eight Phil knew she could put an confrontational agent in their place. Phil didn't feel like getting smacked, so he let her have her way with the keyboard.

Phil couldn't help frowning as he read what she was entering. If Shield was already pulling in their resources they were expecting a drawn out fight. Not that he could blame them with the whole alien invasion thing going on.

Phil sat back in his chair and rubbed at his face trying to get his eyes to stop aching. Staring at his screen wouldn’t make any more news about Clint suddenly pop up, no matter how much he wanted it to. All that had come through the network was that Clint was among those being tracked in the camera sweeps that were being farmed out to the ground bases from the helicarrier.

Bile tried to claw it’s way up the back of Phil’s throat at the thought. If Clint was classified as compromised, he was more likely to be taken out then captured and questioned. That quick kiss they shared, when Phil was ending his shift and Clint was starting his, was most likely their last. They hadn’t been dating long, but when your only choices for date locations were the cafeteria, gym or a bunk, cuddling in their rooms and talking was a pretty popular option.

Phil was clutching at his water bottle, hoping small sips of the cold liquid would calm his stomach, when Victor rolled up beside him and placed a hand gently on his shoulder. Turning to meet Victor’s eyes Phil felt his stomach drop out because that look meant nothing good.

“I’m so sorry Phil, they’ve found him.” Victor’s voice was thick with emotion and for once in his life Phil wished he could scream, express his anguish in a way the world could hear.

Phil knew intellectually that Shield finding Clint was a good thing. That if they found him it meant they found the bad guys too. It could be the thing that enabled them to save the world. He still felt like it signaled the end of at least part of his.

"Their sending out a shield team now, Black Widow is on point" Victor called out reading off his tablet.

Ms. Darren gently pulled Phil from his makeshift desk and set him on one of the folded up sparring mats. Phil tried to keep himself from hyperventilating as she took over his position entering new information into the feeds. Phil grabbed Clint's purple hoodie from the bag still slung over his shoulder and pulled it tight around him.

Natasha was Clint’s best friend, she appeared in almost all of Clint’s mission reports and stories even if she was a continent away at the time. Phil had never met her personally, nor had any of her reports had to be transcribed, but the soft look in Clint’s eyes when he spoke of her told him a lot about her.

Phil couldn’t claim Natasha as a friend or even an acquaintance, but he had thought they would be able to exchange exasperated eye rolls at some of Clint’s antics should they ever meet. The fact that she might have to take Clint out ate at him almost as much as the idea that Clint had to be taken out.

Phil knew he was shaking and sheet white except for the red crescent his nails were cutting into his palms, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. In any other circumstance he would shove all his worries to the back of his mind, put on a calm face and deal with the problem. This though, was part of his world, as new and unexplored as it was, sliding out from under his feet while all he could do was watch. If there was any time he could forgive himself a breakdown he was pretty sure this was it.

Nur, one of the Triskelion’s pharmacists, handed Phil a glass of juice. He cursed himself as he felt the sedative start to kick in. He should have remembered how she had chosen to calm O'donnell when her girlfriend went out of contact while on mission. He could feel himself slump against the wall as Nur plucked the glass from his hand, her sad eyes the last thing he saw before unconsciousness greeted him with open arms.


	10. Chapter 10

Clint’s head was ringing again, still? Clint was pretty sure it was still ringing, but he hadn’t been paying attention while he was shooting aliens so he could be wrong. Either way he wished it would stop. He had more targets than arrows and the ringing wasn’t helping with trying to plan what to do about that.

He had vague flashes of fight on a catwalk as he helped pull civilians out of a burning bus. The memories of before, before he woke strapped to a bed, before he was in control of himself, were trickling in as he fought his way through the streets. He just hoped the flood of memories would hold off until until the battle was over. His inevitable mental breakdown could wait, he was shaky enough on his feet without that adding to it.

The explosions and blasts splitting the air around him weren't helping anything either. If it weren’t a battle, if it wasn’t his fault, he would have long ago found a dark corner to curl up in until the pain went away. But it was a fight, and he couldn’t let innocent civilians die in an a invasion he facilitated. So he ignored the way his body wanted to shake with fatigue and let fly an arrow and he would let fly another and another until they were down or he was.

Clint was glad he hadn’t eaten anything much in the past few days, because if he had he was sure he would have lost it all over Stark’s shiny suit. Sudden flight and concussions really did not mix well. As it was he was left on a rooftop with bile burning up the back of his throat hoping the world would slow it’s spinning for just a little bit. He took a deep breath and started calling out the formation of the aliens while shooting down those closest to him. This Clint knew how to do, this was more a part of him than his name, and he felt himself start to settle into his own head once again.

When Clint’s fingers closed around his last arrow he knew he needed to get the hell out of dodge. So it was a grappling arrow, a controlled free fall and a plate glass window. It was pain and the knowledge that it wasn’t over yet. He had to find the others and keep fighting, keep trying to fix the mess he made. He could pass out once Loki was taken care of one way or another.

 


	11. Chapter 11

“We need to get him up, he needs to see this. Seriously, how many sedatives did you give him.” The voice was close and probably accompanied the poking sensation on his shoulder.

“I gave him the standard dose, it should have worn off by now!” Memories were starting to come back, he remembered a glass of juice and a sense of betrayal.

“In Nur’s defense he had been up since before the fall of Pegasus. I’m not surprised his body took the chance at rest and ran with it.” With that everything started to click into place, Pegasus, Loki, the Tesseract being stolen, Clint being compromised.

Phil lurched upright, forcing his eyes open despite bright glare of the fluorescent. Hands Clumsy as he tried to sign Clint’s name.

Ms. Darren caught Phil as he tried to gain his feet despite uncoordinated limbs and led him over to a chair. When he was settled Nur gave him a sheepish smile and handed him a water bottle with an intact seal. Phil cracked the seal and chugged the water, trying to get rid of the cottony feel in his mouth.

Phil looked imploringly at the group around him, hoping they would answer his question without him having to write it down. He tried to control the shaking of his hands as he rolled the bottle’s cap over and through his fingers, a trick he had learned from Clint.

Victor rolled close to Phil’s chair, a grin on his face “Look and see for yourself.”

Phil knew Victor wasn’t the type of person to smile while delivering bad news, so he knew what was on screen probably meant good news. It still took every ounce of will he had to turn his eyes towards the screens.

The feeds had almost doubled while he was passed out, two whole walls of the gym were now covered with either camera or data feeds. Phil followed Victor’s direction when he pointed towards a cluster of what looked like traffic and security camera feeds close to the center of the wall.

Most of the feeds showed the destruction of the city, and Phil was surprised to note the alien carcases that looked like they just collapsed where they stood. He didn’t know wether to be glad or pissed he apparently slept through the whole battle. That wouldn’t be enough to get Victor smiling at him like that though, so he kept scanning the projected feeds.

When he saw someone with a bow silhouetted as they made their way passes a burning car he felt the breath catch in his throat. He scrambled towards the computer that looked like it was controlling that particular set of feeds, heedless of what he knocked over on his way. The moment his fingers hit the keyboard he started typing, desperate to get a closer look at who he hoped was Clint.

He forced the camera to turn and track Clint’s movement, coding flowing through his fingers faster than it ever had. The picture quality was horrible when he blew it up, turning the image into a pixelated mess. It was enough though. Even covered in soot and with a slight limp to his gait Phil could tell. Clint was alive, and he wouldn’t say well, but definitely alive. Phil didn’t know how, and he could only speculate on the why, but he was pretty sure he owed Natasha a huge thank you.

Phil returned the feed to it’s normal size, because he confirmed Clint was alive and he wasn’t the only one desperately looking for a loved one. He turned his attention towards the surrounding cameras, trying to figure out where Clint was headed. Normally he’d have no problem figuring out the New York streets, having spent most of his adult life between New York and DC, but the massive amount of destruction made it hard to tell one street from the next.

“My best guess it that your boy is heading towards Stark tower. It’s make sense with the way portal was right above it and all.” Phil turned and saw Ms. Darren had taken the seat right next to his, a cup of coffee clutched between her hands.

Phil nodded, if he looked closely at the surrounding buildings it did look like Clint was heading that way. The portal was something he did not know happened, but it would go a long way to explaining the aliens.

He could feel the tension uncoil from his body as he took a deep breath. Now that he knew Clint was alive he could go back to taking care of his people. He felt a bit bad for letting his personal life get in the way of running the network, but he knew no one would judge him for it. The network was designed to help people in just the situation he had been in after all.

Sitting back, Phil took a moment to look at the activity buzzing around him. Their pseudo-control room was running just fine without him. He was glad the network was working as it was designed to, getting information to people who would have been left out of the loop otherwise. He wished he could say he was surprised when he saw a cluster of agents huddled together in one corner keeping a close eye on the information feeds, but he wasn't.  Shield was great at dealing with threats, but not so great about dealing with the well being of it’s people.

Phil almost flailed out of his chair when someone behind him put a hand on his shoulder.

“Sorry, sorry.” Nur said as she moved to his side “but they’re calling for all medical support personnel to be transported to New York to help with the injured. I figure we can probably fit you on the transport with us.”

Phil could feel his eyes widen as the words sunk in. He stood up so fast the he knocked over the folding chair he had just been sitting in.

Nur smiled at him “You have thirty minutes to gather your stuff and get to the transport. I’ll meet you in the hanger.”

As Phil turned to and grab his emergency go bag from his locker Nur spoke up once again. “This makes us even for the whole sedative thing. Alright?” Phil smiled and nodded, he could ignore her breaking that protocol if she would break this one for him.

“That’s good” she said as she started to follow him out of the gym.

Phil’s mind was already lost in thought, trying to figure out if he still had a spare suit in his locker. It was stupid but Phil wanted to look his best when he met Clint again, even if a rumpled suit could be forgiven because of the whole end of the world thing.


	12. Chapter 12

Clint was so hungry that the mere thought of food was making him nauseous, but he was slowly forcing down small bits of food anyway. He knew if he didn’t get something into his stomach soon he was really going to regret it. That and medical would probably ream his ass, he was in for enough angry yelling without adding that to the list.

“So what was the base that fell?” Clint hadn’t really been paying much mind to the conversation buzzing around the table, but Tony’s question caught his attention.

Clint turned to Natasha hoping she wasn’t about to say what he thought she was. He knew there was only one base it could be, but if it wasn’t said he could still hope.

Natasha shot Clint a look he couldn’t decipher at the moment and turned to answer Stark’s question. “It was Pegasus, one of our joint research bases.”

Tony let out a slow whistle “I saw some footage of that, it was horrifying really.”

Everyone turned to look at Clint when the silverware started rattling. It took Clint a few seconds to look down and figure out that it was his hands shaking against the table causing the noise. He clasped his hand together to try and get it to stop, but at that point his whole body was shaking so stopping his hands didn’t make a difference.

“Clint, are you okay?” Steve had gotten up and carefully placed a hand on clint’s shoulder, but Clint wasn’t paying attention to any of it, too busy trying to get out the words that were jammed in his throat out.

All Clint managed was a broken “Phil?” but he knew Natasha understood what he was asking, knew she wouldn’t sugarcoat the truth no matter how much it hurt.

“I haven’t seen the casualty list, but Clint you have to understand that the base went down fast. If he wasn’t out by the time Loki appeared, it’s likely he didn’t make it.” Natasha didn’t reach out for Clint or say she was sorry, but he knew if she was right she would be the one helping to hold him together anyway.

Bruce was the one to ask “Who’s Phil?”

Clint took a deep breath and tried to still the shaking of his body. He pushed down all of the speculation to the back of his mind, Phil was alive until there was some pretty damn strong evidence proving otherwise. He looked around the table at everyone's concerned and curious gazes and decided that these people, who had fought with him despite everything, were trustworthy enough to know about his personal life.

“Phil's my boyfriend”  Clint’s voice still shook when he said it, but this time it didn’t break over Phil’s name.

Clint felt the corner of his mouth quirk up, they hadn’t put a label on what they were doing. There was no need when it was just them and the twisting halls of Pegasus, but he was pretty sure Phil wouldn’t mind. And if he did, Clint wouldn’t mind watching Phil yell at him if it meant he got to be in the same place as Phil again.

“He must be a fine warrior to catch the heart of one such as yourself.” Thor said while the others seemed to still be processing the whole boyfriend who may or may not, not, definitely not be dead thing.

The small quirk of his lips turned into a full blown smile “Yeah, he really is.”

Clint knew Phil would fight him on that, but Clint knew that there were more battles than the ones that required punches and bullets to win. He would convince Phil of it, even if it took years. And he would have years to do it, because Phil was not dead.

Turning back to his food, Clint started eating again partially because he was hungry and partially so he wouldn’t have to keep talking. Thor had a soft smile on his face but everyone else save Natasha looked like they were trying to figure out how to deal with some on the verge of an emotional breakdown. Really, Clint figured food in his mouth would keep him from saying something stupid.

Everyone else followed his lead and resumed eating again. Clint propped his feet up on Natasha’s chair and for once she didn’t push them off. He let it go without comment, he figured he wasn’t the only one feeling rattled by the last few days.

It was a quite few minutes of eating and silent side eyeing before Tony spoke up again. “Hey feather brain, your schrodinger's boyfriend wouldn’t happen to have a predilection for suits would he?”

“Why the hell-” Clint started until he followed Tony’s sightline and promptly forgot what he was saying.

Standing on the other side of the cracked window was Phil, shoving his Shield badge in the guard's face and looking like he was about to start throwing punches if they didn’t let him through soon. Clint stood up fast enough to send his chair skittering towards the wall moving fast enough that he cleared the table and door before it stopped rattling.

Clint shoved his way through the guards hard enough that he ended up tackling Phil to the ground. Clint would apologize for it, but he was too busy having the air crushed out of him by Phil’s hug. Clint really should get Phil to loosen his grip because of his probably cracked ribs, but at that moment he really, really needed the hug.

Clint eventually pulled them into a sitting position with Phil almost straddling his lap. Phil took advantage of the new position to cradle Clint’s face and then proceed to kiss him breathless. They probably would have kept on kissing for a good long while if Steve hadn’t cleared his throat behind them. Both Clint and Phil turned towards Steve, Phil looking sheepish while Clint just look smug.

“Care to introduces us to your fella, Clint?” Steve asked while helping both men get back on their feet.

Phil was trying unsuccessfully dust of his suite while Clint turned to introduce him. “This is Phil Coulson, who is my boyfriend who is not dead, both of which are awesome things to be.”

Phil gave a small smile and wave to each avenger as they introduced themselves. Clint was automatically suspicious when the blush returned to Phil's cheeks as Steve introduced himself. Phil had told Clint a little bit about his collection, but this seemed like more than just old childhood admiration flaring up.

"Struck speechless by our combined awesomeness, huh?" Tony asked, a wide grin on his face.

Phil held up a finger, asking for a moment, and started digging into his pants pocket.  With a triumphant grin he pulled out a slim notebook and a small pen and started writing using a piece of rubble as a desk. Clint wondered if it was the same one from when they met, and if what Phil wrote was still in there or if the page had been removed.

Tony’s eyes widened, but all he said was “Damn, we’ll have to try and be more impressive next time then.”

Steve looked like he was trying to decide whether he wanted to clap a hand on Tony’s shoulder or cuff him on the back of the head.

Thor pulled Phil into hug “Son of Coul! It it good to meet the one that has caught the Hawkeyed one's heart.”

Phil gave Thor an awkward pat on the arm as he pulled away. Clint was glad he wasn’t the only one who didn’t quite know who to interact with the god.

Pushing his glasses up his nose Bruce said “Guys, as nice as this meet and greet is, I think we're catching some attention. If it’s all the same to everyone, I’d rather not be out in the open when people with cameras and microphones descend. There’s only so long Shield’s blockade will hold after all.”

“I know just where we can go!” Tony said quickly pulling out his phone and rapidly typing in a message, the blue light from the screen melding into the light of the arc reactor. “Give it a few minutes and my man Happy will be around to get us. In the mean time let’s finish up our food, Hawkbutt over there can split his food with our new man in black. The bill, of course is on me.”

Clint looked over at Natasha who just gave a small shrug and turned to go back inside the restaurant, the other Avengers following after her. Clint pulled Phil into a quick kiss before he pulled the other man into the restaurant by their clasped hands.


	13. Chapter 13

Everyone had been shuffled off to various guest rooms to get some much needed rest, but Phil really didn’t feel all that tired, especially after the sedative Nur gave him. So instead he was pacing in front of the large windows of Tony Stark’s living room watching as one by one errant fires stopped lighting up what little of the skyline he could see through the smoky night.

There was an itch under his skin that meant Phil should be doing something, anything besides standing and being unproductive but there wasn’t much he could do in a stranger's house. Even with a smart phone there was only so much he could do, and he was pretty sure Victor was about to remotely shut down his phone if he asked for updates one more time.

Giving in Phil finally sunk down onto one of the couches that occupied the room and flipped on the TV. He’d doubt he’d get that much actual information on what happened, but it might help to fill in the blanks from when he was unconscious.

He flipped through what seemed like, and knowing Tony probably was, thousands of channels. None of them had anything to contribute to what had actually happened or why, it was all just speculation or fear mongering depending on which news source he was looking at. With each click of the channel button Phil was more and more tempted to throw the remote at the screen. the only thing that was stopping him was the knowledge that the entertainment system probably cost more than his yearly wage.

Phil let out a long sigh and flipped the TV off. Sitting there and getting angry was even less productive than sitting there and doing nothing. He just wished there was something he could do, so the itch under his skin would go away.

“If you don’t mind agent Coulson, I have a suggestion on how you could get access to more useful information feeds.” Phil had to fight back a flinch when Jarvis’s voice suddenly issued forth from hidden speakers.

Phil raised his hands and started signing, not stopping to consider whether or not the AI could understand ASL. “I’m not an agent, please feel free to call me Phil. I would love to hear your suggestions.”

“I’m sorry” Jarvis said, “I didn’t quite catch the middle part of your message. Could you repeat it a bit slower for me?”

Phil gave a small nod and looked around the room, trying to find where there was a camera, so he could be sure to be facing it when he signed.

“There is a camera above the TV, if that is what you are looking for.” Jarvis said

Phil turned back towards the TV and gave a small smile before he started to sign again. This time he made sure to go slowly and make sure there was a beat of time between the words. The same way he used when he was trying to teach Clint how to string sentences together with proper ASL grammar.

”Thank you Phil” Jarvis said when Phil had finished. “If you would get the tablet from the dining room table, I can run some of the feeds Sir got access to through it.”

Getting up Phil winced at the way his joints popped with the movement. His muscles were still mad at him for being tackled earlier. He weaved his way around the numerous couches to the dining room. The table looked like it could fit over twenty people easily, and of course the tablet was on the far side of it.

The tablet looked like a pane of glass with a thin silver bar running down one side. Phil idly wondered if would cut like a real piece of glass, though he knew that would be a horrible design flaw. When he picked up the pane the screen immediately filled up with feeds straight from shield. Phil could feel the incredulous expression creep over his face, they were the same one that Phil had used Fury’s passwords to access earlier.

On a hunch Phil tapped the button for what looked like a chat system and typed in one handed “Do I want to know how Tony got access to these?” not bothering to designate who the recipient was.

“Not if you feel strongly about reporting breaches of protocol or security.” Jarvis responded through his speakers.

Phil shrugged, he wasn’t going to report it, but that wasn’t going to stop him from taking advantage of it. If anyone asked, he could honestly say he didn’t know how Tony accessed the feeds. Plausible deniability and all of that.

Phil walked back to the couch, piling pillows against the armrest and toeing off his shoes before he stretched out on the couch. He almost wanted to switch out his suit pants and dress shirt for sweatpants and a t-shirt, but that ran the risk of lulling him to sleep instead of just making him more comfortable. Thankfully he had brought his glasses with him, and perched them on his nose while he asked Jarvis to roll back the feeds to just before he was drugged unconscious.

Soon enough Phil was lost in going through the wide array of feeds Jarvis had access to, the murmur of the speakers and staccato of his typing the only noise in the whole room.


	14. Chapter 14

Clint woke up with a start, his heart pounding. He tried to scramble out of the bed but ended up on the floor twisted up in his sheet. He frantically looked around and it took a minute to register where he was. Finally the memories of Tony and the tower and safe and Phil filtered in and Clint slumped fully to the floor and tried to keep his breathing under control.

When his heart was no longer racing Clint sat up and peered over the bed. He was expecting to see Phil there, they had shared a bed a few times at pegasus, but all that greeted him was the pillows. He had thought Phil would have come in sometime during the night, but he must have found somewhere else to sleep. Clint couldn’t really blame him, he’d be suspicious of sleeping with a recently brainwashed assassin too.

Untangling himself from the sheets Clint stretched as he got up, wincing as his joint cracked and all his injuries flared to painful life. Frowning at the large streaks of grey that he left on the once pristine white sheets Clint decided that the shower was the first order of business and then he would find Phil, and hopefully there would be food somewhere in there.

It turned out finding Phil was pretty easy. He had been on his way to where he thought he remembered the kitchen was, about to cross through the living room to get there, when Steve clapped a hand over his mouth and pulled him the long way round to the kitchen. Steve was seriously lucky that Clint caught his approach from the corner of his eye, or he would have had to been renamed captain pincushion. Just because he looked like he was unarmed, didn’t mean it was true.

When all the doors to the kitchen had been closed and Steve released his hold Clint couldn’t help but ask “What the hell, that is not how you greet a guy first thing in the morning!”

The others, who were sitting at the table, or in Natasha’s case perched on the island counter, turned and shushed him.

Clint exasperatedly mimed zipping his lip and throwing away the key glaring the whole time.

“As far as we can tell your boyfriend was plotting world domination before he passed out. We decided it would be best not to disturb him for fear of getting on his bad side.” Tony explained, cradling his coffee in front of him like it could offer some kind of protection.

Curious Clint padded over to the doorway between the kitchen and living room and peered out after he cracked the door. It took him a minute to understand what the screens floating around Phil’s slumped form were showing, but he was not dealing with that without getting coffee first. And maybe getting some food too, but most certainly not without coffee.

Using the spy skills Natasha had drilled into him he closed the door smoothly making sure there wasn’t a hint of sound and crept over to the coffee machine. He filled a mug and then sat down next to Bruce, careful not to let the chair scrap over the flooring.

No one said anything as Clint drained his first cup of coffee and then Thor went around with a fresh pot refilling everyone’s mug. Clint would have to send a thank you card to Darcy for coffee training Thor.

Clint got halfway through his second cup of coffee before he decided to speak up. “So I don’t really know what he’s doing” he started, slowly lowering his mug to the table “but that seems like blackmail material, a lot of blackmail material, a lot of blackmail material on a lot of people up high.”

“He’s your boyfriend, if you don’t know what he’s doing do you think the rest of us have any clue?” Tony said, his voice still soft, but his gestures clearly showing his exasperation.

“Maybe” Clint said “What with two of you being confirmed geniuses and the others probably on the unconfirmed side of that designation.”

Bruce raised his mug to Clint in a small salute, then went promptly back to drinking what Clint suspected was caffeine free tea.

Natasha narrowed her eyes at Clint “What department did you say Phil worked for again?”

“The records department” Clint said, wondering what Natasha was angling for.

“Wait, Legolas is dating a paperwork drone?” Tony said, Bruce quickly slapping a hand over his mouth to muffle the exclamation.

Natasha completely ignored Tony’s little outburst and asked. “And what exactly is his position in the records department?”

Clint looked around at the others for an explanation, but everyone seemed to be waiting for his answer. “Head. He’s the head of the records department.”

Steve let out a low whistle and Tony’s eyebrows were trying to make a break for his hairline. Natasha just gave a satisfied nod.

“That actually explains a lot.” Bruce said.

Even Thor seemed to catch the implications of his answer, so Clint finally broke and asked “What am I missing?”

“Your sleeper agent out there is the record keeper for a no-longer-so-secret spy organization. He’s like the boss level secret keeper, I bet he has dirt even Fury doesn’t know exists.” Tony said, and Clint did not like the gleam that was coming into his eye.

“Wow, Shield hired a mute to keep their secrets. That’s actually a horrible cliche. Was that a big plus for HR when they were hiring him? ‘dont worry I can’t tell a soul’ kind of thing” Tony kept on, ignoring the look Steve was giving him.

“Really Tony?” Steve asked, a long sigh following the words.

Bruce had buried his head in his hands, and from the way his shoulders were shaking he was trying to suppress a laugh.

Everyone froze when the door to the living room swung inward, barely daring to breath as they turned towards it. Phil slowly shuffled through the door, clothes in disarray and eyes barely open behind his glasses.

Phil didn’t even acknowledge the group at the table, and just slipped past where Natasha’s legs were dangling off the edges of the counter and made his way towards the coffee pot.

After filling up a mug, draining it, and refilling it Phil made his way to the table. He pulled up a chair right next to Clint’s and all but sat in his lap. Even though they had only managed to spend a few mornings together before, Clint had quickly mastered the art of drinking coffee with his arms still wrapped around Phil.

“It heartens me to see such displays of affection, it is a thing much needed in times like this.” Thor said, his voice lowered to a more conversational tone.

Clint shot Thor a small grin, then proceeded to give Phil a kiss on his cheek, just to see the look on Tony’s face as he tried to process it.

“So as cute as this is” Natasha started “Care to explain what your planning?”

Phil straightened from where he was curled against Clint, all signs of sleepiness falling away. He set his mug down carefully. Clint turned in his chair to try and get a better angle on Phil’s signing. Despite his efforts Clint couldn’t get a clear read on what Phil was saying, he was pretty sure he didn’t know a few of the words anyway. He was hoping a translation was coming soon, because if Phil was counting on him to provide a translation they were screwed.

To Clint’s relief Jarvis provided a screen with a translation written on it.

“They’ve used their nuclear option. It’s only fair that I use mine” Steve read aloud.

Steve turned towards Phil, eyeing him carefully “Are you proposing we attack the World Security Council? That seems a bit extreme doesn’t it?”

Phil just raised both eyebrows, and Clint knew he was probably reading too much into it but he could almost hear the ‘you're really going to try and play that card?’ in the air.

“So” Bruce said, calmly taking a sip of his tea “You want to dismantle the WSC, from what I’ve seen, with blackmail.”

Phil met Bruce's gaze for a long second then nodded.

“Where do I sign up?” Bruce asked his grin looking absolutely wicked.

Clint looked around at the group trying to gauge just how crazy they were “So is everyone in?”

It turned out that Bruce had one of the more tame evil grins of the group.

Clint pulled Phil unto his lap and tucked his nose into the other man’s neck as Phil started signing about what he had found. They were going to wage a quiet war against the World Security Council and with Phil’s heart thrumming under his palm Clint had no doubt they were going to win.

There was a lot more to avenge than just an alien invasion after all.


End file.
